


Midnight on Avenue New 52

by perletwo



Series: Trope Bingo Fills [4]
Category: Legion of Super Heroes
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Detective Noir, Gen, Legion Lost, References to Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:23:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perletwo/pseuds/perletwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Private inquiry agent Ty Rock walks the shadowy byways of the New 52.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight on Avenue New 52

**Author's Note:**

> Fills the "Detective/Cop AU" square on my trope bingo card.

Shadows slanted through the horizontal blinds and fell like prison bars across my desk. They stained the photographs of my friend Gates, who'd seen the wrong end of the Feds' truncheons while trying to help me with a case. Little guy might not have much in the leg department, but he'd stood up - didn't tell the Feebs anything about what we'd learned.

We closed the case, but the medecos were saying the scarring would probably be permanent. And painful. My hand shook as I shuffled the glossy pages, and I itched to reach for the flat brown-glass bottle hidden in the desk's bottom drawer.

Instead I stared through the frosted glass on my office door, automatically reading the reversed letters etched on it without really registering their meaning: TY ROCK private inquiry agent. When the words finally sunk in, I made my hands go still and thrust thoughts of my booze cache firmly away.

That wasn't the way to handle this, hiding in the bottom of a bottle. The little guy might be a bit buggy, in body and brain, but he got hurt on my watch. I figure a man's supposed to do something about that.

I strode over to the safe, pulled my gat from its molded case and loaded up. Then I grabbed my trench coat and fedora, and strode out the door. Man on a mission.

***********

Finding the names of the G-Men who maimed Gates was a snap, with a little help from Officer Tellus, NYPD. They were already being disciplined by the Bureau - which didn't so much mind the excessive force as the messy evidence of it they'd left behind - and that was good enough for me. But the Feds' files said a confidential informant, identity protected, had tipped them that Gates was nosing around on my behalf. That was who I wanted, and finding him - her - them - wasn't gonna be any cakewalk.

Much as it pained me, this part of the job was going to require a little help. So soon enough I found myself standing outside an office door on the other side of town: THE DAWNFIRE AGENCY. The "agency," I knew, consisted of the couple that owned the shop, his talent with surveillance and spy gadgetry, her exceptional abilities as a tracker, and an extensive network of stringers and snitches. Skip traces, stolen property recovery, and bounty hunting jobs were Drake Burroughs and Dawn Starr's specialties, and they made a tidy living off finding things and people that weren't meant to be found.

"Door's open," Burroughs called. "You gonna stand out there staring all day?"

How does she _know_?

I stepped in and found Drake with his face mask on, welding - something - at his desk. "Should he be doing that indoors?" I asked Dawn, who just rolled her eyes. "I'm looking for -"

"We know," she cut me off. "Tellus gave us the same intel he gave you. I've already got a bead on the one who gave them Gates."

My eyebrows rose, and Drake put in, "Hey, we use the little guy from time to time too. He's a little buggy, but he's our little buggy."

"You should know we're not the only ones hunting for them, though. There's one other." Dawny smiled and stood. "Shall we?"

************

We'd barely gone a mile when Dawny and I both spotted the tail. Coordinating with a couple of discreet hand gestures, I peeled off, doubled back and caught the guy in the next alley. I slammed him up against the wall.

"What's the - Hey! T-Wolf?"

The street tough just snarled at me. Gates' best friend. Of course he'd be looking for whoever sold him out.

"I want him, Rock. First crack. You gotta promise."

I sighed and loosened my grip on his lapels. "Wolf, I can't just hand him over to you, you know that. I want payback as bad as you do, but -"

He barked a laugh. "Doubt that. You got friends every damn place, Rock. Me, I just got the one, you know? He's - he's like family."

"I know," I said, voice softer. "But I can't let you just kill them. I need your word you'll leave them alive, or you'll leave them to me. Your choice. I don't want to go head-to-head with you on this, but I will if I have to."

T-Wolf growled again. "I'm a lotta things, Rock, but I ain't no killer. Not yet, not even for Gates. Just let me get my claws into 'em."

"You got my word."

***********

Dawny was waiting outside the alley. "All taken care of?"

"Yup. We close?"  
"We're close." She led me three streets over to a dilapidated apartment building, and pointed up. "2-C."

I pulled out my clutch piece and offered it to her; she waved it away and pulled a tiny derringer of her own. "Really?"

"I've never needed more," she said with a grin, and waved me up the stairs.

The lock was ancient and quick work to pick. We sheared off to opposite sides of the room, to cover whatever might be waiting for us.

"Oh, _really._ Is all that necessary?" purred a familiar woman's voice.

Yera Allon was stretched out on a sofa that was probably worth three months' rent on this hole, long legs crossed silkily at the ankle.

"I should've known it would be you," I said, shaking my head. "You really would sell your own grandmother for a credit, wouldn't you?"

"I don't have a grandmother," she hissed. "I don't have _anyone._ Never have, Ty." Her voice changed back to its seductive purr. "You know what that's like....don't you?"

"Drop the act." I brandished my gun at her. "I ain't goin' down for you, lady. Not like my pal Gim did."

Yera shrugged. "It's a hard world for a girl on her own. I do what I have to, to survive."

I thought of the pictures of Gates' battered and scarred body. Some things should be off limits, even for an opportunist like Yera.

"You do what you gotta," I said. "And I do what I gotta. I gave somebody my word, a little while ago." I nodded at Dawn, and she edged closer, the butt of her derringer settling behind Yera's ear.

"Stand up, very slowly," she ordered, and when Yera stood I frisked her. No weapons except the ones the good Lord made her with. Dawn took her upper arm. "You'll walk with me, very slowly. Ty, will you call T-Wolf, or should I just find him?"

"I'll call, but he won't be far," I said.

For the first time fear rippled over Yera's expressive face. "T-Wolf? NO! No, Ty, you can't _do_ that - don't you know what he'll _do_ to me -"

"Sure I do, lady," I said. "Just like you knew what the Feds would do to Gates."

Dawny pulled her out the door, and when it closed I sat down heavily on the expensive sofa and buried my face in my hands.

***************

Tyroc woke abruptly, with a choked gasp.

"You okay there, boss man?" Tyroc sat up. Wildfire was at the tiny worktable, soldering something. 

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry if I woke you."  
"Nah. I don't really sleep. Just tryin' again to jumpstart this future-tech. Can't figure out why it won't respond. Bad dream?"

Tyroc ran a hand over his face, glanced at the TV, which was showing one of those endless half-hour commercial programs (this one about the joys of juicing things not really meant to be drunk).

"New rule," he said. "Bratwursts and Bogart movies right before bed? Never again."

END


End file.
